Hetalia! One - Shots
by Silverly
Summary: As the title would suggest, this is just going to be a bunch of one-shot based around the anime Axis Powers: Hetalia. Some may be feelsy, and some may be normal, and some may be fluffy. Who knows? Test your luck, why don't you? WARNING: Romano dies. A lot!
1. HERO

_Eyy, my first one-shot and story here! Awesome! I hope that you like it! Reviews, follows, and favs are greatly appreciated! o v o_

 _x_

* * *

 **✖HERO✖**

 _America was called a hero._

 _Names are not always true._

"Ah, America, what are you doing here? This is a war council, for nations who are at war with the Axis powers."

The young nation smiled broadly at the four faces watching him within the small meeting room, optimism shining clear in his eyes. He'd only come to this place because of a recent attack from Japan that he'd rather not discuss. Even if he was still bothered by it (which he should be- it wasn't too long ago), he didn't seem to care. He'd remained as cheerful- if not more -as usual. However, there was something that had changed within the American. It wasn't that some part of him had gone- on the contrary, it was as if some part of him had... enlarged.

"Oh, so I am in the right place then!"

"Does that mean you're joining us, Amerique?" France questioned, looking slightly unsure.

"Yep!"

"But we've been asking you to join us since this war first started! Why on earth are you joining us now?"

"A simple thank you would be fine, you guys."

Having successfully brushed off the question, America began talking.

"Alright, everyone listen to me! We've got to focus on victory in Europe because our biggest threat is from the Germans. However, because of this, we'll start out in Italy, and I'll lead, of course."

So, America rambled on for a while, and everyone else seemed to hold on to every word he said. Almost everyone. It was England who had noticed something odd. America constantly said that he'd be the hero and he'd lead them with his "totally awesome plan" or whatever. Calling himself a hero was a normal thing for the young nation, but never so excessively.

"America, you speak of this plan you're going to lead us through. How exactly are you going to do that?"

"Well, if you'd all listen to me, that's how."

"Oh, sod off! How do you expect to lead if you don't even know what the devil you're doing!

"I know exactly what I'm doing, you just-"

"Just shut it! How dare you even open your mouth when you've not even a single idea in that thick skull of yours? You call yourself a hero, don't you? Are not heroes supposed to stand up for those who can not stand up for themselves? News flash, America, there are millions of innocent civilians being murdered as we speak, and they can do nothing about it! You just say these things because you want all eyes to be on you, cause that's just how you like, isn't it? Hell, the only reason you're up and functioning correctly is because of all the attention you're getting!"

That young nation's smile had disappeared, leaving behind only an expression that was unreadable. England had chosen the exact words to make him feel horrid, and he knew that. The poison in his normally calm voice made that clear.

"What... are you trying to say?"

"Isn't it obvious? You're no hero; you're just an attention whore!"

If England had said anything else, America did not hear it. Left vulnerable from Japan's attack, he was now a hastily stacked tower of emotions, just waiting to blow over and fall to the ground. England's words were just enough to do the job. As a result, America had become lost- lost within himself.

Heroes... are supposed to be loved... aren't they? Supposed to be... praised, doted upon. Supposed to be famous, and wanted.

His mind raced backwards, back to a time when this man called England was so fondly referred to as "daddy." Looking back on it now, it was as if he were a prize to be won. But he was wanted. The one who got him was proud of him, so it was fine. He'd seen other children, though, with mothers and fathers, who praised their children as well, but for different, far simpler reasons. He didn't like it, but he was still praised, so it was fine.

His mind raced ahead to a time where a child named Davie was referred to as a friend. He wanted a flower, and getting that flower was a kind thing to do, and heroes were kind, right? He found them, heaps of them. Davie didn't say anything. America didn't like it, but others were happy for him, so it was fine.

Forward, to a time where both he and England seemed to share a deep hatred for one another. Was he no longer loved? He hated it, but France still loved him, so it was fine.

Forward, to a month prior to now, as he felt the undying pain of his civilians as Pearl Harbor went down, and this "hero" could do nothing about it. That was most definitely not okay.

Forward once again, to just a week ago, as he decided to join the Allies, he stood at his first president's grave, reduced to an emotional wreck, trying desperately to hold himself together while he cried out these five words:

"Are you proud of me?"

Suddenly, his mind returned to the present. Glancing at the clock, he noticed that this rush of memories had only lasted for a second. However, the stinging feeling in his eyes told that his pain was worth far more.

The room was silent, the tensity in the air almost tangible.

"You know what, England?

The young nation smiled, tears threatening to spill from eyes the color of the sky.

"You may be right."

 _America was called a hero._

 _Names are not always true_.


	2. UNKNOWN

_I hope this one is liked by you all~ And to any owners of Romano roleplay accounts out there, on any website, tell him that I've got nothing against him, I swear! XD_

 _x_

* * *

 **✖UNKNOWN✖**

There was something wrong. There was always something wrong. The other nations either didn't notice or didn't care, but there was always something off. No one else knew that, but Veneziano did.

However, just like the others, he had no idea what it was.

"Do you ever just feel like something's missing? You know, like something's just not right? Cause I'm pretty sure that's what's going on right now. Something's different. I don't like it."

The young man, known as Veneziano or Italy spoke softly to his cat that he'd fondly referred to as Pookie. He'd claimed before that she could understand every word he said, but currently, the only thing she was doing in response was rolling onto her back for tummy rubs from the Italian, a request to which he kindly obliged.

"I just don't know. Well, what do you think?"

The cat simply meowed, licked its paw, and purred at Veneziano's touch.

"Just continue on normally, huh? I see. Thanks, Pookie! What would I ever do without you?"

Smiling, he gently removed the cat from his lap and placed her onto the floor.

Checking his calendar and seeing that the world conference would be in his country today, he decided (of course, it wasn't exactly a decision) that his outfit would be his uniform. Saying his goodbyes to the cat sprawled out on the floor, he left for what he anticipated to be another chaotic and mostly unsuccessful conference.

And of course, he was right.

America rambled on as usual about being the hero, England and France were arguing, Germany had to constantly shout at everyone to shut up, and everyone else was either fighting or not paying attention to anything. Veneziano was the latter.

Originally, he had hoped that this meeting would help take his mind off of his internal conflicts, but currently, the outlook wasn't so great. He simply rested his head on the table and sighed, hoping that something or someone would help him. However, when he looked up, all he saw was an empty chair next to him, which made his stomach turn over, and he didn't know why.

Seeing the distressed Italian, the Spaniard in the seat on the other side of him gently ran a hand through his hair and smiled.

"What has you so stressed, my friend?"

For a second, Veneziano considered simply not speaking to him, but that would only leave him alone with his thoughts, which would be worse.

"Spain... is there someone not here today?"

"Hm? No, not that I can think of. Why do you ask?"

"Has that chair always been empty?" Veneziano queried, ignoring the last question.

"As far as I can remember, yes. What's bothering you so much?"

He sighed, his reply barely audible. "Nothing, nevermind..."

"Are you sure? Because it really looks like-"

"I said it's nothing, alright? So just leave me alone, you bastard!"

Spain was shocked at Veneziano's snappish attitude that replaced his normally kind demeanor. It was strange coming out of him, but almost familiar for some reason. Although, it was quickly replaced with a look of remorse.

"I-I'm so sorry! I didn't mean that, I just... I really don't want to talk about it anymore. E-excuse me!"

Without giving the other a chance to respond, he snuck out of the meeting room, into the hallway, and into some random room that happened to be a closet. He closed the door, locked it, and slid down against the door, covering his face with his hands. What was wrong with him? He would never call Spain a name like that! So, why did he?

There was some part of him that was angry at Spain. Hated him, to be exact. This part felt that he should know exactly what it was that disturbed Veneziano, and the fact that he didn't made him utterly furious. He should've known. He was the closest to the issue, after all! He wanted to slap him, yell at him, swear at him, anything!

Problem was, he still didn't know why.

No matter how hard Veneziano tried to push it all away into the deepest, darkest corners of his mind, he couldn't, and these poisonous thoughts followed him throughout the meeting and all the way home.

Opening the door and voicing his hellos, he didn't find his cat laid out near the door like usual, but he was only somewhat concerned. His thoughts were so occupied that he could hardly register anything that was going on around him. And it was only getting worse. He stumbled into his living room, only to find his cat, along with a box toppled over, its contents spilled.

"Oh, Pookie! How many times have I told you not to play with my stuff!"

She seemed sorry, but Veneziano only shook his head at her and bent down to clean up her mess. Looking down, he noticed that it was a box of old photos from who knows how long ago. Being a very sentimental person and wanting something else to take over his thoughts, he decided to sit down and look through them. He sighed in delight as he reminisced over them.

Even so, those feeling of hatred and emptiness grew ever more at certain pictures. Ones that contained a man he didn't know. He looked similar to Veneziano, only tanner, with green eyes, and had a more irritated look. He was so familiar, so much that it physically pained him that he couldn't place a name to that face.

He hated it.

Fresh tears streamed down his face as he looked at them. It was almost torture to see this person, but he so desperately wanted a name. He craved to know everything about him.

However, seeing this person also made Veneziano... happy, in some way. He remembered that he was important, and that he loved him. As if he were... family. It seemed that this mysterious man thought the same.

In every single picture, he looked a little happier when they were with each other.

And Veneziano could smile through his tears.


	3. DREAM

_This one here was a request from one of my friends on a different website~ It's not my best work, but in my defense, I have no idea how to write Greece, and I was just going off of what she told me. I'm still probably going to write another fanfiction for Greece, though. I hope that you guys still like it! q v q_

 _x_

* * *

 **✖DREAM✖**

"Why are you sleeping?"

"Hey, stop sleeping and wake up for once, why don't you?"

"There are other things besides sleeping that you could do, you know."

Sleep.

If anyone's ever complained about his laziness, the Greek didn't really care. The only word that his mind would register was sleep. It was the most appealing concept to him, for reasons didn't like to discuss very often. It didn't exactly matter anyways, considering the fact that whenever people would ask him, he was usually half-asleep, so it would never come through properly.

Currently, he was doing just that. Sleeping.

Or at least trying to.

He rested himself on the ancient ruins of stone steps leading to a library that had collapsed many centuries ago. Though broken, he loved this place. It was quiet, peaceful, calming. It reminded him of when he used to sit on the same steps, listening as philosophers preached their theories. It also reminded him of his mother. Ruins were the only things that made him feel... safe, and loved. Without them, he would have felt alone in the world, and that's what bothered him.

He didn't instantly fall asleep like usual because there was just something bothering him. Some sort of longing. Some sort of loneliness. Sure, he'd felt this way before, as did other nations, but today it just felt worse, like it was slowly eating at him, defining his very existence. That was the very reason he'd come here in the first place. (He rarely came to the place because since he loved it so much, it was often that he wouldn't leave for days on end, which left many people and nations worried.)

However, being here only made these feelings all the more terrible.

Greece wanted more. More than to just be in this place, he wanted to be in this place the way it was before. Before disaster and time destroyed it. That was what he longed for. He just didn't know why. He also didn't know why this stopped him from sleeping.

Suddenly, he heard quiet footsteps approaching him. He was too tired to care, so he simply lied there and waited for this person to speak first. They stopped right in front of him, a calm, familiar voice starting to speak.

"What are you doing here?"

It was Cyprus.

"I should ask you the same..." Greece responded lazily._

"Well, you disappeared and that usually means that you've been crawling around in the ruins, and I came to find you. Once again, what are you doing here?"

"Skydiving."

He rolled his eyes at that statement, but he realized it was an obvious question that there was really no point in answering. He remained quiet for a while, but seeing that the Greek had not yet fallen asleep, he decided to ask,

"...Why do you sleep so often?"

He wasn't half-asleep this time, so there was really no excuse for ignoring him. This was not the first time Cyprus has asked this question, but it was the first time that Greece had ever been fully awake for it. He sighed, shifting his position so that he was turned away from him. For a second, it seemed that he was angry at the other, but he started speaking anyway.

"Well, if you really must know, it's because... it's because I feel no meaning in staying awake for this world. Not anymore, at least..."

"Anymore?"

"Ever since..." Greece cut himself off, but he knew that Cyprus knew what he meant. "Ever since that, I just... feel empty. So what's the point of staying awake just to feel nothing?"

Cyprus had never thought of his situation in such a way. He always thought that Greece was a naturally tired, relaxed sort of person, not that there was an actual reason for it.

"But if you stay like this all the time, you'll just miss all chances to help yourself!"

"That doesn't matter. It will never be reversed. That would be too perfect... This world is only a shadow of a perfect one."

"What do you mean?"

"Someone told me. Somewhere is a perfect world where every problem is fixed and everything is wonderful. Just thinking of that, I don't want to live here anymore. The loneliness, the worrying, it's all too much. I no longer want to deal with this. Sleep is the closest thing I can get to that world. However sad it is, I don't care."

Cyprus was rendered speechless at his words. Greece had never said anything about his feelings like this. He was never a very "open" person to begin with, but this... Maybe he was half asleep after all, and just couldn't stop talking.

"But you have to care, don't you? If you just don't care, then this nation will crumble and you'll disappear!"

At the mention of disappearing, Greece seemed to grow very tense. As if he were angry at Cyprus for saying such things. Even so, his expression was unreadable, his voice unwavering.

"Maybe I don't want to care. It hurts. It causes worrying. I don't want that for my people. And mother wouldn't have wanted that either. I care about her, and it hurts. I don't want to feel any of this, and I never asked for it."

Cyprus stayed silent for a while, thinking over the past few minutes. Was he really that unhappy with his life? He could think of nothing to say, except...

"Greece... I- I'm so sorry..."

Upon receiving no response, he'd realised that the tense air from the Greek had fallen away, and he seemed calmer now. That only meant one thing: he'd finally fallen asleep.

Even if Greece didn't remember this conversation when he woke up, Cyprus would. And this memory would follow him, no matter how vague it grows to be, for the rest of his existence.


	4. LOVE-HATE

_Oh yeah I forgot this person does one-shots she hasn't done one in a while_

 _But anyways, here is one that was originally written for an acquaintance on another website, because she told me not to do it._

 _And guess what - I did it._

 _If there are any Spamano shippers out there, please don't sue me._

 _Without further ado, I present to you, my newest one-shot~_

 _x_

* * *

"I love you."

To a certain lovesick Spaniard, those three simple words meant far more than the person they were directed to would ever know. Although, he couldn't quite grasp how to explain it, so he hoped that they would suffice.

He was so, so wrong.

His hopes were very quickly dashed - repeatedly, might I add - when that special someone only responded with unkind words of rejection, usually followed by language so colorful it would put rainbows to shame. With this sort of person, his persistence was truly admirable, to say the least.

However, on this attempt of very many, the Spaniard seemed more tired, his expectations set unusually low. But, with the most beautiful flowers and a - somewhat forced, although you would never notice it - bright smile on his face, he knocked on the door of the someone who he'd still loved, even after all this time.

Oh, did I mention that this someone was the extremely stubborn, immensely vulgar, and highly aggressive Lovino Vargas? 'Cause that's kind of important.

After a few moments of muffled shouting and an angry "why do I have to get it?" followed by a "you're closer!", the door opened to reveal the considerably less than happy Lovino, who seemed all the more irritated once he'd seen who was there.

"Oh, it's you again. What the hell do you want?"

At these words, hurt expression crossed his face for a moment, one that passed so quickly that Lovino doubted whether he'd seen it or not.

"I just wanted to say hello and talk, mi amigo! Is that so much to ask? Also, I brought you these~" He said, holding up the bouquet of flowers.

Lovino didn't really have anything mean to say to that, he was just very, very flustered. The flowers were gorgeous, and it was a very kind gesture, one that he really didn't deserve. It was all very flattering, really.

But of course, he would never admit that, and shooed those absolutely and utterly disgusting thoughts straight out of his head.

Taking the flowers and looking away in an almost shy manner, a glaring red blush slowly crept across his face, as it normally would when these sorts of encounters would ensue. He was about to say something, but he was cut off by none other than his twin brother, Feliciano, running up to the door, practically summoned by the very sound of the Spaniard's voice.

"Oh, Antonio! I haven't seen you in so long! I missed you so much - where on earth have you been? Please, come in!"

Lovino didn't say anything, only going inside quietly to place his flowers on the table, so Antonio decided to take the invitation.

And so, the two went to the living room, simply chatting up a storm. Lovino had always thought the two were far more talkative than any normal human being, but something had seemed different about Antonio today. It may have just been his pessimism talking, but it seemed almost as if he were forcing himself to speak so much.

Maybe he'd come to his senses and realised how annoying the little Italian really was.

Still, the quick glances at Lovino he'd stolen at every opportunity, and his general kindness had proved otherwise. The boy was becoming aware of his intentions, and resented himself for becoming so shy that he hadn't realised it sooner.

He was doing this again.

"Antonio, may I talk to you alone for a second?" He requested in suspicious tone, a not looking the other in the eyes.

Recognizing Lovino's foul mood, his brother immediately stood up and practically sprinted out of the room. The last time Lovino had asked to speak to someone privately, let's just say it ended up far less than cheerful.

"What's troubling you, Lovi?"

"Listen, Spaniard. If you're here to confess your undying love for me or whatever, I've said it once and I'll say it again; I. Don't. Like. You. In fact, I hate you. I hate you, I hate your face, you're annoying and I just hate you! Got it?"

Antonio simply smiled at this response, shaking his head and laughing slightly.

"Lovi, I have no idea what you're talking about. I had no intentions of-"

Lies.

"Sure you didn't, and a flock of tomatoes are just gonna fly right out of my ass! I fucking despise it when you do this. Just stop it already! You're a pathetic piece of shit!" Lovino shouted, his words laced with only the purest resentment.

Antonio was surprised by these harsh words that were fired towards him. Usually, the ill-tempered Italian would only send him frustrated glares and empty threats that everyone knew he didn't really mean, but this time, it was different. As if he were trying to cause as much damage as possible to the other male.

"You… you don't really mean that, right?"

"Are you really that fucking delusional? I've said it countless times, I'll shout it from the heavens if I have to! But I'd rather not waste my breath on some poor, idiotic bastard like you!"

At those words, something inside of Antonio snapped. Being a very patient and tolerant man, he had an amazing temper that anyone would definitely admire.

However, everyone has their breaking points.

"Yes, of course. Because I'm the one undeserving of your time, totally."

Lovino was taken aback at this statement. Normally, Antonio would never try to fight back at his insults, so he didn't know where this was coming from. Although, he did know one thing - his fragile string of patience, thinned and stretched and battered over time had finally been cut.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!"

"What the hell do you think it means?! I'm tired of you doing this to me all the time! I've had enough of your selfish attitude, and I'm just done with you!"

Lovino's face had gone a bright, stunning red at this point, hands balled into tight fists, literally shaking from his anger and frustration. "Selfish? How the fuck am I selfish, when you know for a fact that I cannot stand your very presence?! You're the one who keeps trying all the time! You're the one who can barely fucking think for yourself!" He yelled, anyone in a twelve mile radius probably being able to hear him.

"I can't believe how much time I've wasted on you, taking care of you! You were a spoiled brat then, and you're still one now! I can see now why everyone likes Feliciano better than you, and frankly, I did too, but I decided to give you a chance. Biggest mistake of my entire life, it seems!"

He could tell that that was definitely a sensitive point for Lovino from the hurt expression on his face. The boy always knew that his brother was loved more than him, but he never wanted to admit it. But now that the very person who claimed to love him more than anything had agreed with everyone else, well, it was downright painful to confront.

"You know that Feliciano has nothing to do with this, so don't you dare even try to bring him into it! Unless you're trying to make me direct my anger to him or something? Well shit flash, fucktrain, I love my brother more than anything in the world and if you even think for a goddamn millisecond that you could ever come between us for some pitiful-ass reason like this, you can just get the hell out of my life, and you can start by hauling your ass right the fuck out of my-"

Almost as if out of nowhere, his rant was cut short by a hard slap to the face.

Lovino looked up at Antonio, holding his soon-to-be reddened cheek, a frightened look within eyes that hid miles and miles of lush green forests behind them. He backed away slightly, his position resembling that of a kicked puppy with its tail between its legs.

Sighing, Antonio spoke first.

"I'm sorry I had to do that to you, Lovi." Antonio said, his voice dangerously low. "You understand, right? You're just so… frustrating. It isn't not like I wanted to do that or anything, it's just… I loved you, Lovino. I've always wished you could see how deeply I've cared for you, after all this time. But I see that I was wrong for that, and I will gladly get out of your life, possibly forever, if you want me to." He stated, his words practically dripping with acid, daring Lovino to retort.

With no response, Antonio turned on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him, and leaving Romano in complete, and utter silence.

Upon hearing the door slam and the silence after it, as if on cue, Feliciano slowly inched out of his room, unsure if it was okay to check up on his brother. He'd heard every bit of the shouting and harsh words they'd thrown at each other, and he really wasn't sure whether or not his twin would be alright after that."

Lovino turned around to face him, his expression unreadable.

"Fratello, are you… are you okay?"

He was so caught up in what just happened that he didn't even realise that tears were steadily streaming down his cheeks until now.

Without saying a word, he threw himself into Feliciano's arms, crying his heart out, with Felicano whispering soothing Italian words of comfort in his ears as Lovino would often do for him.

It was shocking to think that in an instant, he could become so ugly to someone who once thought that all the stars were in his eyes.

"I loved you."

To a certain extremely stubborn, immensely vulgar, and highly aggressive Lovino Vargas, those three simple words had taken away far more than the formerly lovesick Spaniard they were from would ever know.

* * *

 _Haha, I bet you thought it was going to be cute, didn't you? Ahaha... sorry._

 _However at the begginning, you mentally signed a contract to not sue me, so there._

 _Whoopsies~_

 _x_


	5. TWO BIRDS

_Hooray! More one-shots!_

 _Let's just pretend that I'm not stalling with Dollhouse, by the way. 'Cause, as you all know, I'm totally not._

 _Totes._

 _Anywho, today's paring of the day, is... /spins imaginary wheel/ USUK!_

 _Hope you enjoy!_

 _x_

* * *

 _"_ _Two birds, on a wire ~ One tries to fly away, and the other, watches him close from that wire ~ He says he wants to as well, but he is a liar. "_

Why wasn't Arthur one of those… interesting people? He wished oh-so dearly that he could answer this question, but sadly, the answer seemed impossible to find. He just couldn't fiGure out why his life had seemed so dull over the past few days…. Everything simply felt as if it were in monochrome. And one day, he'd just decided the reason was him.

He just couldn't figure out why.

He wasn't really noticed much in this world, and frankly, why would he be? He wasn't a celebrity, he's never done anything newsworthy, he wasn't very talented' with much, and he was not exactly the social type.

Granted, he wasn't exactly invisible like that one boy… what was his name, again? Arthur could never remember. But still, it seemed that no one really cared for him.

So, how was it that people like Alfred F. Jones could be thought of as so great and charismatic by everyone they meet? He wasn't any of those things! Well, except for maybe the social part. Yes - that might be it. But either way, it was so stupid. As a matter of fact, HE was so stupid!

Well, at least, that used to be what he thought. Today, however, he could be considered the most special person in the entire universe.

But of course, even if that were to be known (which it was, because why else would they be dating?), he'd never admit that and continue this façade for the next twenty years or however long he had to.

Then again, there is rarely an adult with the mind of a seven year old, and no one he'd known happened to be one of them. Even that Feliciano person got it!

That doesn't matter, though! This was stupid and he was stupid and everyone in the whole world whose name wasn't Arthur Kirkland was made of pure stupid!

Ah, he didn't have the effort to bother himself with this nonsense anymore. He's just been so tired lately. Tired of life, tired of existing, tired of his existent-non-existent boyfriend-

"Hey, Artie!"

Speak of the devil.

The American had just technically broken into his house, a habit he's acquired over the past few weeks. Didn't Arthur keep that door locked? He didn't know, and honestly, he didn't really care anymore.

"Didn't I tell you not to call me that?" The Brit snapped, feigning only the utmost disgust with that name.

"Oh, yes, I'm doing fine, thanks for asking!" Alfred beamed and practically skipped over to the couch where Arthur currently sat mindlessly flipping through channels, kissing him on the cheek (making the other blush very heavily), and plopping down right next to him.

Sheesh, didn't this kid ever run out of energy?

Noticing the exasperated look on his face - more exasperated than usual - he decided to ask the obvious;

"Hey, are you alright? You sick or somethin'?"

"I'm fine."

"You sure, cause you seem a little-"

"I said I'm fine, idiot!"

Alfred was rendered silent for a moment, taking in the tense atmosphere. Normally he wasn't too talented at reading the mood of the moment, but something told him that Arthur was not too happy with being bothered today.

"Alright, okay, no need to get your panties all in a twist!"

"I am not getting my panties in a twist! Why are you here, anyways? And I swear, if this is another invitation-"

"We~ell, about that…."

"No."

"Oh, come on!"

"No!"

"Please?"

Not wanting to argue anymore, Arthur only sent him a stare that could make Death himself hide away in shame.

"Okay, okay, fine!"

Although, he wasn't going to leave that easily, sir, no sir! So, instead, he scooted over, only to lean and rest his head on Arthur's lap.

"I'll just stay here with you, then!"

"Fine…."

The kid's cheeks that were colored a burning scarlet could probably melt Antarctica at this point.

He didn't object because the truth was, Arthur needed him here. Alfred made him feel like his very existence was the most important thing in the world, and without him, they'd be on the verge of the apocalypse. It was… charming, in a clingy sort of fashion. But a good one.

They sat in mostly silence, the only sound being the television and Alfred's incessant questions, all of which Arthur answered with few word replies. Until, finally, he asked something that wasn't so easy to disregard.

"Why don't you ever want to do anything with me anymore?"

"Hn?"

"I mean, why are you always like… this? I didn't ask you before, because I was thinking it was just some sort of phase, and it would change, but it didn't, and I'm wondering why…."

"I'm sorry, but I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're lying." Alfred's voice was strong, authoritative, and firm, yet wavering slightly, as if it were a warning that he was about to snap.

"I'm really not! Please, Alfred, I-"

"It's me, isn't it?"

Arthur was taken aback by this. Did he really think it was his fault? This was all wrong! It wasn't his fault, it was Arthur's… wasn't it?

"What?"

"You never want to talk to me anymore, you're never the least bit happy when I'm around, and it seems like you just don't like me at all!"

"Alfred, that's ridiculous! I love you, why don't you believe that?"

Alfred was silent for a moment, contemplating his answer. Arthur hoped that he would come to his senses, but unfortunately for him….

"Because it doesn't feel like it. You say that, but it doesn't feel like it's true, and I just… I just hate it! I can't do this, Artie. I just can't."

"What are you saying…?"

"What do you think I'm saying? You're the smart one, I'm sure you can figure it out. I'm the idiot here."

"You know I didn't mean that, please, don't-"

"Shut up, Arthur!"

At this point, Arthur knew he messed up now. For one, Alfred would never shout at him (unless he was super excited for something), much less tell him to shut up, and he'd always insisted on calling him pet names so often that it was rarer than a blue moon when he would refer to him as "Arthur."

"You've obviously got some issues, and I'm not sticking around to deal with them. I can't deal with them, okay? I don't know how! I'm not your mom, I'm not your therapist, you can't expect me to be the hero all the time, alright? I can't do everything!"

Another thing that was most definitely wrong; Alfred would never, ever, ever even suggest that there was anything that he couldn't do. He would always be the hero.

Upon receiving no response, Alfred turned to the door and began to walk out, but standing in the doorway, he spoke once again.

"If you can ever get back to reality, you know where to find me."

And with that, he left Arthur in silence, plunging him ever deeper into his fit of self-loathing, farther than he'd ever expected or even wanted to be.

Alfred was gone.

And it was all his fault.

 _" One tries to fly away, and the other… "_

* * *

 _Haha, did I forget to mention, that USUK is one of my nOTPs?_

 _'Cause that's kinda important._

 _Also, I may or may not turn this one into a full-fleged fic, considering that a few people told me to continue it. So, stay tuned if you like USUK!_

 _x_


	6. HEAT-HAZE

_Oh mai, two updates in one day? Amazing!_

 _Today's other pairing of the day, is... /spins imaginary wheel obtained from the last chapter/_

 _PRUMANO!_

 _Enjoy~!_

 _x_

* * *

Before I tell you this story, there is one thing I must state.

My name is Lovino Vargas, the representative of Southern Italy, and love is complete, and utter, bullshit.

There. I said it. It sucks.

Now, don't get me wrong, it's good for some things, such as being able to tolerate annoying little brothers I will not mention the names of, and I will admit, it's nice to be cared for, sometimes, but that's not the sort of love I'm talking about here. I'm talking about head-over-heels, I cannot lose you, since when did your lips get so kissable, type of love. Yeah, I hate it. Especially when I have it, and even more so when it's directed towards certain albinos who are ungodly amounts of irritating.

And even MORE when those albinos are named Gilbert Beilschmidt and are the representative of the nation of Prussia.

It is impossible to determine how this… idea, of my love for him (I usually can't say this without dry heaving) first came into my head. It still baffles me to this day. It seems that just one day I was telling him off for being the idiotic bastard that he was, and the next, he was just… amazing, in every way possible. (Part of me still hates myself for saying that.)

Idon't know what it was. Was he attractive, somehow? Was it his enticing ruby stare, the way it stood out from the rest of him which was white and pure as snow? Maybe it was his laugh, his sense of humor, his personality… was all of this just charming, in a way?

Ah, I'm getting off track here, I don't need to deal with this now! (Then again, dealing with it is essentially what I'm doing.)

Anyways, this horrendous conflict between me, myself, and I went on for a few weeks, until, eventually, something happened that proved to me, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I… loved him.

One fine day that appeared as if God had allowed Michelangelo to paint the scenery, I'd made the stupid decision to invite Prussia out for lunch at some restaurant I'd long since forgotten the name of, because for some reason, I felt the stupid need to talk to him. And he made the awful decision to accept.

After we were finished eating, we had a small, stupid conversation, yet one that I'll definitely always remember.

"So, Lovi," (I hated that name.) "I've seen what you've been doing."

"What?"

"You've been acting more awkward than usual around me, you're much more rude to me than normal, yet your insults weren't even that good, and now you've invited me out? This could only mean one thing."

"And what exactly is that?"

"You love me, don't you, Lovi~?"

God, I still wish he hadn't said that, because my face felt like it was going to melt and I guess it looked like it too, since the bastard's -beautiful- stupid smile widened even more.

"No, no, and hell NO! I would never love you, or anyone like you, fucktrain!"

"Oh? Then why does your face look like a tomato, huh?"

"Dios mio- Don't even start, I swear, I'll kill you."

"Alright then, Italia~ I'll take your word for it. But I know that you love me."

With this, he got up and left.

Naturally, as a lovesick dumbass, I went to go follow him.

"Hey, hey, where are you going?"

"We were done with lunch, right? And, since it apparently didn't mean anything…."

I hated the way he would always tease me like that.

"Th-that isn't what I meant!"

"If you mean that, then catch me, love~!" He said, tauntingly.

With that, he sped away, leaving me to run after him. Unfortunately, he made the fatal mistake of sprinting across the street, not even bothering to look at the light, therefore not knowing that it shone a glaring scarlet color.

Luckily for him, I managed to catch up with his stupid, stupid, STUPID self.

"GILBERT!" Was all I managed to scream before the next event happened.

Without even confessing that I loved him more than anything, I grabbed his arm, practically throwing him out of the way of the truck that sped through the streets, leaving it to hit me instead of the love of my life.

Then, it all went black.

 **The day that my love died still rings clearly in my mind. And why wouldn't it? It happened almost a week ago, and I'm still in the hospital because of it. When he threw me out of the way, it wasn't far enough, so I still got some of the damage.**

 **Still, I should have died instead.**

 **I shouldn't have teased him, I should have been kinder to him, I should have… I should have told him how I felt. I knew he loved me, it was obvious. Now he's gone, and it's my fault. If there was one thing he was right about, it's that I'm an idiot.**

 **I still remember it quite vividly. I was knocked out for a good few minutes or so, but what I saw made me wish I would have stayed knocked out. People crowded around the accident, some frozen in shock, and some presumably dialing 911. I wondered what happened for a second, but that was when I saw it. He was lying in the middle of the street, a mangled mess that I wasn't even sure was him anymore. A pool of blood was an understatement, it was more like an ocean of the scarlet fluids that ran from him in rivers. And, as if to rub salt in my wound, there were big, bold tire marks his back. It made me sick to my stomach, I'm surprised I didn't vomit right then and there.**

 **I remember having a hope of him surviving this somehow, for he was a nation, and couldn't die. It was immediately dashed I realized that he had a brother who could take over the nation himself. Technically, he wasn't needed.**

 **I can't even make myself admit what I saw was true. I just can't. So… I leave you with this.**

 **My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt, the representative of the nation of Prussia, and love is complete, and utter, bullshit.**

「ｈｅａｔ－ｈａｚｅｄａｚｅ」

* * *

 _Whaaaat? This one's in first person? How scandalisssssss-_

 _Alright, so this one was actually written to torture one of my friends since this is her OTP, hehe-_

 _Sorry-_

 _So, here's the thing you're all probably thinking about - yeah, so, Romano's dead._

 _((Gosh, I am just tossing this guy around like a ragdoll- first he dissolves, then he gets slapped by Spain and left crying, and now he's just dead oh my goodness))_


	7. DAVIE

_Yay! Another update! I'm getting sorta good at these, aren't I? Anyways, time to spin the... WHEEL OF FEELS™!_

 _Let's see what our topic is today... /spins wheel_

 _IT'S... DAVIE!_

 _Enjoy~_

 _x_

* * *

There is a certain unspoken rule between nations.

To break this rule would cause more pain and heartbreak than ever.

However, that rule seems to have been broken many times throughout history.

This rule involves positive relationships with those who are mortal. Since nations are immortal for the most part, it is quite obvious to see how this would not end well.

Even so, Gilbert did it, Francis did it, Ivan did it, and so did others. So, what's so wrong with one more?

The nation in particular happened to be a small, young, and naïve, Alfred F. Jones. The mortal in particular was a child, slightly older than him. Davie was his name, and he was possibly the first true friend Alfred ever had.

"Hi, I'm Davie!" The boy exclaimed during their first meeting.

"My name's Ame- I mean, Alfred! Alfred F. Jones!" He responded, careful only to state his human name, for he knew that much, at least.

Instantly, they became great friends.

Not long after that, Davie started to show an odd interest in flowers, specifically one he called a "forget-me-not." From there, little Alfred was completely determined to please his new friend no matter what, and if that meant finding some flower he didn't even know existed, he was most definitely going to do it.

After that, Alfred waved goodbye to his new friend, bidding himgoodnight, and promising to see him again the next day.

This was a promise he made well on, but not in a way he'd expect.

"Davie! Davie!" Alfred called out, running towards his house, filled to the brim with energy.

What he was met with was very unpleasant.

Standing at the door, there was someone who looked like Davie, but he was taller, and older.

"Who is it?" A boy who Alfred could not see behind this Davie look-alike asked him.

"Ah, it's just some kid, probably got the wrong place." He said, bending down to Alfred's level. "Hey, go run back to your parents, alright? You shouldn't be out here alone, alright?"

Alfred was extremely confused, but said nothing of it, and went back to his caretaker, Arthur Kirkland's, house.

The next day, he went back, and was met with an old man, who seemed to have two kids, a boy and a girl.

"Davie…?"

It was basically the same thing that happened with the Davie look-alike. He simply told him that he had the wrong house, and to go back home.

Throughout these attempts of trying to find Davie, Alfred realised he'd forgot something important. The flower. If he did find Davie, then with this, he could apologise for being gone for so long, as well as boost his friendship with him! It was perfectt

"Hey, England?" Alfred called out when he got home.

"Yes, America?" He responded, emerging from out of his office room.

"England, do you know where can I find this flower called a forget-me-not?"

"Yes, but they are quite far off… why do you need to know?"

"I need one for my friend Davie! He's been set on finding one and when I see him again, I want to give one to him!"

"This… friend of yours, Davie, he isn't a nation… is he?"

"No, but I still need to find them for him! Please, England, take me to them, please?!"

Normally, England wouldn't approve of this type of relationship, but seeing the pure joy sparkling within the depths of those bright blue eyes… he just couldn't bring himself to take this away from him. And so, with a nod, they set out.

It turned out that England was right. Within a field, there was an abundance of the small blue flowers. They were beautiful, and it was obvious why Davie had spent so long searching for them. But now, no longer, because Alfred would bring back as many flowers as his tiny little arms could carry!

Once they got back, he left many of the petals scattered around the floor. Still, he was far too happy to care. For as long as at least one flower was still perfect, it would be fine.

The next day, Alfred was met with a sight that spread happiness throughout his very being.

It was Davie.

Not a Davie look-alike, not an old man who looked remotely like him, but it was Davie. It had to be!

"Davie! Davie!" He shouted to the boy.

However, he payed Alfred little to no attention, even when he ran right up to him.

"Davie… I-I have the flowers, remember?"

The boy said nothing, and placed them into a box of some sort, one that contained a person that seemed to be sleeping, resting on a bed of infinite other flowers. With that, he walked away.

Confused, and quite saddened, he ran back home to Arthur, to tell him what happened.

"America, what are you doing home so early? I'd assumed you'd still be out with that friend of yours. Did he like the flowers?"

"I... I don't know."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Davie says that he isn't Davie." Alfred stated, sniffing a little. "Davie says that a stranger sleeping in a box is Davie. He wouldn't talk to me, though. Do you think he's mad at me?"

Upon realisation of what really happened, Arthur's face softened greatly at his words, a look of pity planted on his features. It made him seem older, in a way.

"Yeah, I know, I'm sad too. I bet Davie must be real lonely, sleeping in a place like that…"

Without a word, he enveloped Alfred in a tight hug, tears forming in his eyes.

"I… I should've seen this coming…"

"Seen what? Why are you crying? What's going on?"

"I'm so sorry…."

「ｈｅｔａｌｉａ！ｏｎｅｓｈｏｔｓ」

It was about 12:30 noon when a 19-year-old Alfred sat at a bench at a park, chatting away with one of his friends, Feliciano Vargas. Since the world conference was going to be America this time, he took this chance to meet up with the people he didn't usually talk to. It was nice to be with those who didn't think he was an idiot. It made him feel like he was really worth something.

Upon spotting a quite lovely girl standing a small distance away, Italy was instantly drawn to her, claiming that he'd be right back.

That was fine - Italians were always like that, it seemed.

He smiled and laughed to himself at this - he may not have been the smartest, or most clever, or the best at much, but Feliciano was persistent, at least.

He sat there for a while, watching as he flirted with the girl, seemingly successful, until someone came up to him, someone who seemed oddly familiar.

"Hey, you alone here?"

"Nah, my friend's over there, with that girl."

"Oh, heh. May I sit anyways?"

"Sure, why not? What's your name, by the way?"

"Oh, I'm Davie! And you?"

At that moment, Alfred felt a strange connection to this person, and he really didn't understand why. But it felt as if he were important to him, somehow. Maybe it was déjà vu, maybe it happened in some sort of past life, but still, he wanted to be friends with him, because somewhere, in the deepest parts of his mind, he cared for him, and he felt determined to please him, no matter what.

It was also then that infinite amounts of joy, energy, and hope once again filled those ocean blue eyes hidden behind glass frames.

"My name's Ame-" He stopped himself short of his sentence.

"I mean, Alfred. Alfred F. Jones."

「ｆｏｒｇｅｔ－ｍｅ－ｎｏｔ」

* * *

 _Haha this one probably wasn't as good but oh well!_

 _I still hope you liked!_

 _This comic and episode has caused so much pain... I'd like to thank Italy Veneziano for cutting off the episode with Hetalian Jet tho xD_

 _x_


	8. CIAO BELLO

_It's time to spin the WHEEL OF FEELS™ ONCE AGAIN TODAY!_

 _Todays topic is... /spins wheel_

 _WORLD WAR TWO!_

 _Ah, yes, this'll definitely be amazing, enjoy!_

 _x_

* * *

Sometimes, things happen, and when they do, they happen so suddenly that you're not even sure whether or not they were real, and if this was just a dream and you're going to wake up any moment in what your real life.

These things include being caught whilst doing an act of kindness, and for such things watching as one of your brothers was shot without mercy, then being taken away from your family, possibly for the rest of your life.

These were all things that were true in the life of prisoner 401210, also known as Feliciano Vargas. He was caught assisting a Jewish family, taking care of the children and helping out the parents in secret. However, Feliciano was too scared to admit it, or say anything at all. Because of this, he could remember that day oh-so vividly.

"Please, don't do this!" Feliciano's mother begged, tears streaming steadily down her cheeks.

The reaction from the officers made it seem as if she didn't exist at all. They simply pushed his brother, Lovino, upon his knees.

In the cold weather, you could see that he was saying something quickly and quietly as the small, white clouds escaped his lips.

Feliciano knew that he was praying, a habit that the family had all picked up whenever they were in danger or panicked. However, this time, Feliciano was frozen, he didn't know what to do, because there was nothing he could to. This was happening right in front of him, and he couldn't stop it, unless, maybe….

"ZIELEN!" The soldier raised his weapon.

"Please, stop! I did it, okay?! I helped them, I admit it, I did! Please, kill me instead!" Feliciano pleaded desperately.

The officer hesitated for a second, giving the boy a glimmer of hope. However, the next events seem to happen in painfully slow motion.

The officer turned his back to them, his face radiating pure disgust.

"FEUER!"

"Amen." Was the last word to ever leave Lovino's mouth, before the gunshot rang clearly through the air.

"NO!" Feliciano screamed, along with his mother and little brother, Marcello, who were wailing so loudly that the entire country could hear.

It was then that something even worse happened.

Another soldier came up to Feliciano, handcuffed him, and practically dragged him away like a rag doll, his body almost as lifeless and still as Lovino's. He'd already lost the strength to even cry, so now, what else could he do except…. Accept it as it was. There was no other choice.

He refused to look back, yet the screams and sobs of what was left of his family provided a vivid enough image.

So, this brings us here, with Feliciano in his twenty-somethingth week (he'd long since stopped trying to remember) in what was possibly the worst place in the entire universe- Auschwitz. (Then again, that would suggest that other concentration camps were better. And that would suggest that they were good.) Everyone knew that name at this point, and many shuddered in fear at the sound of it. Now that it was Feliciano's new home, their worries were quite understandable, really.

Around the seventh day, he was broken- he felt nothing. He was an empty shell, quietly wallowing in a pit of his own depression. Hollow.

At multiple points, it was so bad that he'd consider suicide, an option that did not go unattempted.

After all, what was the point of living? To work all day and well through the night? To be punished for your kindness? To have even the most basic of freedoms taken away from you? To not care about anyone, because eventually, they would all die or be taken away from you too somehow?

Well, frankly, that wasn't Feliciano's idea of being alive.

So, how did he survive to seven days times twenty-something?

His solution went by the name of Ludwig Beilschmidt.

Ludwig was a soldier, one of the captains at Auschwitz, yet, if you told some random civilian that, there's no way they'd believe this. He was far too kind, far too… human, to be one. Feliciano could see the utter sadness in his icy blue eyes every time some innocent person was sent to their death. If he'd ever talked about them in a way that was meant to be something like disgust, it was as if he wasn't himself, as if he were a robot and someone were giving him the commands to say these things. He seemed pained to be doing what he was, but he had no choice.

Feliciano didn't know what courageous being possessed him to try and make friends with this soldier. It was somewhere around the something-teenth day, so maybe he wasn't too broken just yet, but still, even if he seemed kind, Ludwig was still trained to quickly and efficiently murder anyone who crossed him. Maybe Feliciano was desperate for… someone. Someone who he could care about without fear of them dying. Just someone close. He needed him.

He also didn't know what soft-hearted being possessed the German to accept the offer of friendship, but he was truly grateful for it, after all he'd been through. It almost didn't matter that they always had to sneak around, hiding it from everyone. It made him feel special, like he had a purpose in this world, one that was so important that Ludwig would risk basically everything for him.

He felt cared, and that was really all that he needed.

One night, it turned out it was a caring of a different sort.

Feliciano snuck out and met Ludwig in his office, chatting with him over dinner, as they sometimes would. (Only sometimes, because it would be suspicious if he seemed more well-fed than the others.) All the while, however, Ludwig seemed more reserved, more quiet than normally. It was easy to take notice of it.

"Ludwig, are you… okay?"

"Huh?"

"You seem… depressed. Is something wrong?

"What isn't wrong?" Ludwig asked, his voice distant and not at all commanding like usual.

"Seriously, Ludwig, are you doing alright? Remember, I'm your friend, you can tell me anything!"

Ludwig sighed. "I… I'll tell you, then. Feliciano, you have shown me warmth, shown me that I can find light in this world. And, I don't want to lose that. When you first approached me, I could not believe that someone like you would even remotely enjoy my presence- for why would you hold any emotion except pure hate for those like me? But you… were different. You showed me compassion, and… and I…." He stuttered as tears slowly started appearing at the corners of his eyes.

"What are you trying to say…?" Feliciano asked, standing up from his seat and eyeing his friend with concern.

Ludwig said nothing. He simply stood up as well, leaned over the table and towards Feliciano, and slowly closed his eyes. In response, Feliciano found himself blushing madly, his face reddening and steadily growing hotter and hotter with each inch that was closed between them until their faces were about a centimeter apart and-

"Ludwig-!" An officer shouted as he kicked in the door, staring at the scene in front of him in a mixture of shock and anger, with two soldiers behind them.

"So, it was true…" You could barely hear him say.

He said nothing else, the two soldiers simply went over to the pair and tied their hands behind them, leading them outside, guns pointed at their backs. Feliciano knew exactly what was happening, for it was the same thing they did to Lovino months before. Immediately, he started praying quickly and silently, until he cut himself off- there was something he had to say, before…

"Ludwig?" He breathed out.

"Yes?" Ludwig responded as they were pushed upon their knees.

"Tu sei un dono del cielo. Significhi tutto per me… Ti voglio bene." The former soldier's Italian was quite rusty, but he knew what most of it meant, and to him, it meant the world.

"ZIELEN!"

"Ich liebe dich auch, mein Schatz."

"FEUER!"

"…Amen."

Two gunshots rang into the night.

「ｃｉａｏｂｅｌｌｏ」

* * *

 _Well first off I would like to give my thanks to George deValier- /shot... oh wait_

 _Oh look Romano's dead... again._

 _Hah, I just really hate this guy, don't I? Haha, hope you enjoyed!_

 _Translations: [1] AIM! [2] FIRE! [3] You are a gift from the heavens. You mean the world to me... I love you. [4] I love you too, my sweetheart/treasure._

 _/laughs at your tears_

 _x_


	9. UNE MAITRESSE CRUEL

"Les rêves des amoureux sont comme le bon vin;

Ils donnent de la joie, ou bien du chagrin.

Affaibli par la faim, je suis malheureux-

Volant en chemin tout ce que je peux...

Car rien n'est gratuit dans la vie~!"

xxx

Maybe once or twice in a lifetime, a certain person comes along.

A person that you don't necessarily love, but you just can't lose them, no matter what happens.

And, sometimes, you just can't be with them. It wasn't like you were banned from seeing them, it was simply an unspoken rule that everyone had to follow.

This time, however, said rule was cast to the side and treated as if it didn't even exist.

Francis Bonnefoy, otherwise known as the nation of France, was the unlucky bastard who decided to do so.

Maybe it wasn't his fault... maybe it was some other factor. Whatever it was, it still came into play on the evening of July 14th.

Francis leaned over his balcony with a glass of red wine in his hand, looking across the lands that surrounded. The heart of Paris. Every year, he would see how much it changed and would smile at the result, proud of himself for merely existing for so long. It was a sort of sad, reminiscent happiness that was an ever-present element on this day.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he'd forgotten a celebration was taking place within his house, therefore not noticing the soft footsteps that approached him ever so carefully.

The young woman that they belonged to seemed too nervous to speak, so she simply stood next to him, joining him in looking over the scenery.

After a moment, Francis was at last aware of her existence.

"It's beautiful, isn't it, mademoiselle?"

"O-oh, yes, of course, François..." She agreed, her voice as soft as her steps.

"There is no need to be so shy, mon ami! After all, the beauty of these lands could never compare to that of yourself."

At this, the color of her face easily resembled the scarlet color of the sky.

"Ah... Merci! Though, I bet you say that to everyone, do you not?" She said with a small smirk.

"Fine, you've caught me, cherie. Intelligent as well as beautiful- I love that. However, I have never meant what I said as much as I do now."

"Stop lying!"

"Why on earth would I lie to you, darling?" He asked genuinely, taking the young woman's delicate hands into his own. "You are stunning. Simply... breathtaking. You can't deny a truth such as this."

Needless to say, her bright blue eyes widened, her face feeling as if it were hotter than the sun at this point. But slowly, her expression softened into a warm smile as she laughed softly, somewhat embarrassed.

"Fine, I'll believe you, François, but before I do... do you even know my name?"

Upon seeing the Frenchman struggle to guess, she smiled and answered for him.

"Jeanne. It's Jeanne." She held out her hand. "Nice to meet you."

"A pleasure to meet you too, mademoiselle~." He said, taking her hand and placing a light kiss upon it.

From there, something blossomed. Neither of them knew exactly what it was, but there was something. There had to be.

Either way, it was needless to say that they easily spent the rest of the evening together.

After that, the two were almost inseperable.

They constantly went for long walks together, they sometimes had deep talks about the universe, and one time, they even danced together, her dress flowing with her movements, and Francis considering it cute whenever she'd messed up somehow. Truly, they were perfect for each other.

However, that would soon end, for all this time, he was really placing away the fact that there was a war that he needed to fight. He'd tried to ignore it, but lately he would have random bursts of pain all over his body, and would often lie awake at night because of the nightmares caused by his citizens that were dying by the thousands. Because of this war, Jeanne seemed to be growing distant from him as well.

He really shouldn't have asked her about it.

"Jeanne, what has been bothering you so much? Is it anything that I can help you with...?"

"François, do you ever feel like... like you should be doing something? And if you're not... then you feel as if you're standing around idly, simply worthless."

Currently, this was a feeling he knew all too well.

"Because this war that's been happening... I feel... I feel like I should join it. I should give back to this amazing nation that I was blessed with."

Francis swore he could've felt his heart drop into his stomach.

"Wh-what? Why on Earth would you want to do that?"

"I have to, François!" She shouted, her tone becoming angry. "If I don't, I'll probably die anyways, and, I don't know how to explain this, but I know that God told me to! He told me to protect this country, and... and to protect you." Warm, angry tears suddenly started to stream down her face. "I... I have to. If I have to sacrifice myself, then so be it. But I can't deny Him..."

Seeing this simply broke Francis's heart, for two reasons. One, because he felt terrible for the girl, and knew that there was only one choice at this point. Two, because of a reason he couldn't quite explain.

"If you have to do this... then, I'l find a way, I promise. Be that as it may, I have one condition - you let me come with you."

With cropped hair and a suit of armor, poised atop a white horse in the midst of a bloody battle, she still was stunning, an angel in his eyes.

However, on one horrible, fateful day that is still etched in stone within Francis's mind, this vision of her became literal.

It was May 30th, 1431.

Jeanne d'Arc was accused of many blasphemous acts, including heresy and witchcraft, all of which might as well have not mattered at all now.

On this day, she was being executed of her supposed crimes, and news of it spread like wildfire, eventually reaching none other than Francis Bonnefoy.

He didn't care how far he was away from the event, for as soon as he heard, he practically sprinted all the way to where it was happening, pushing through the crowd, and to the front, only to be stopped by the guards.

"Stop!" He screamed, the intensity of his one word plea almost heart shattering.

Almost.

Needless to say, his cries went unanswered, for they wouldn't stop, no matter how loudly he shouted. However, he stopped in his words once he saw Jeanne's face. It was almost as if she were begging him to stop trying. Then, he remembered her words.

'If I have to sacrifice myself, then so be it. But I can't deny Him.'

In that moment, his heart broke into a million pieces, for three reasons. One, Jeanne had known she was going to die the entire time, and still went through with this. Two, the woman he'd known and loved for so long was about to be set alight before his very eyes. And three... he'd realised that his love was never returned. Everything she'd done to this point was for God.

He felt like the most selfish creature in the world for even considering being saddened by this.

Either way, his eyes remained dry, even as the bottom of the stake was lit. For this, Jeanne smiled weakly at him, her eyes seeming to say "thank you."

The rest of that terrible day was only a blur.

On this day in the present, May 30th, the anniversary of her death, Francis leaned over his balcony once again, staring into the distance, exactly like the day he'd met that wonderful girl.

Only one solitary thought crossed his mind.

'Wherever you are now, Jeanne, may history be kind to you this time, and bless you with roses, not swords.'

xxx

"Une vie à me cacher, et puis libre enfin...

Le festin est sur mon chemin~!"

「ｕｎｅｍａｉｔｒｅｓｓｅｃｒｕｅｌｌｅ」

tHE FEELS ARE GOING INTERNATIONAL OH MY GOODNESS

I assume y'all expected me to write about this at some point or other, and if you didn't, well then sucks to be you.

Most of the reason I wrote this is because that one song from Ratatouille got stuck in my head (Le Festin) and I imagined France and Jeanne dancing together, for both the first and last time.

I only cried for twenty minutes.

/saunters into the salty spitoon


	10. WHEN SHE LOVED ME

Cold, unrelenting rain fell upon the scene, almost battering the troops and their leaders who stood beneath it.

On one side stood one by the name of Alfred F. Jones who led those who would either live with freedom or die without it.

On the other stood none other than Arthur Kirkland who led those who would live keeping their freedoms at bay or die trying.

If looks could kill, the two would've been long dead with the way they stared each other down, steely blue eyes meeting green, a certain unmatched passion held within both. If there was one thing they knew, it was that this was their last battle and one of them had to come out victorious and it sure as hell wouldn't be the other.

"Alfred Franklin Jones!" Arthur called out, raising his musket slightly, and shocking Alfred by actually using his real name, and full name at that.

"Just say it, why don't you? If you'd stop being so stubborn and just admit it, it we wouldn't even have to do this, damn it!" He shouted, his denial taking him over entirely.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Alfred queried, hoping it wasn't about what he thought it was.

"Just admit that this is all a joke, America."

Alfred's heart dropped in his chest.

"And we can all go home."

・・・

"My name is England!"

"Engwand?"

"No, it's England! Engla-" He sighed. "Well, since I'm your new big brother, you can just call me Arthur."

"Alright, Artie!"

"No, it's-! Whatever. Just… come with me."

He started walking, but quickly realised that the child wasn't following him. He turned around, seeing him still standing there. He stood with a slight pout, reaching his arms out as if he wanted… oh, come on!

Arthur huffed as he walked back, not saying a word, but simply picking up the child and carrying him the whole way, allowing him to rest his head on his shoulder. Small fingers instantly found their way around the cloth of his shirt, and stayed locked in place there for the remainder of the walk.

"Arthur…" The child whispered after a while, his grip on the Brit's clothes tightening considerably.

"What do you want, Alfred?"

There was no reply.

"Alfred?"

Arthur turned his head to the side, only to see the child asleep, a slight smile gracing his features. He couldn't help but allow a smile to tug at the corners of his own lips. Although he was proving to be somewhat annoying, it was still in an endearing sort of way. One that he thought would make it worthwhile.

He thought.

For the most part, after that day, it was shown to be true, though more intensely than he'd originally presumed. The two would spend almost every hour of every day together, mostly because Alfred had refused to be alone without Arthur no matter what, but also because, honestly, the kid was adorable, and how could you say no to a face as cute as his whilst still owning and maintaining a soul?

You couldn't, and that's what made Arthur weak.

However, weak could also be translated into words or phrases such as kinder, or more compassionate, more empathetic. Whenever the child was depressed, or angry, Arthur couldn't stop himself from feeling the same, likewise when he was joyful or optimistic as well. Yes, the kid could be a nuisance when he wanted to, but somehow, they managed to keep the peace.

Then came the mistakes. One day Arthur had to leave, Alfred having no idea why, the closest thing resembling an explanation being "I just need some time away." Away? What did that mean? Away from what? Away from issues in his country? Issues in the other colonies? Or… possibly issues with Alfred himself?

But that didn't make any sense! Why wouldn't Arthur still like him? After all this time… had he just been making assumptions this whole time? All those times he'd been tucked into bed, or told stories of times past, or even simply been kissed on the forehead, it was all lies? Even when there were those times when Alfred had to be the kind one, and try his best to console him when he was lonely or sad… had he really not cared for him, or the family - however small it was - they'd created at all?

Well, whatever it was, it didn't matter, for he had no time to figure it out, let alone to find a way to convince the Brit into staying, for one morning, he simply up and left.

This was his first mistake.

When he returned, he found not the small, dependent child he had abandoned long before, but a teenager who seemed well enough on his own. It was known that nations did grow at a faster rate than humans, but this just seemed ridiculous! He was only gone for… wait, how long had he been gone?

It didn't matter, however, because he was never going to let Alfred out of his sight again.

This was his second mistake.

The change from basically living on his own with minimal interference from Alfred to this sudden regime was an irritating one, and one he wasn't going to take lying down.

"No, Arthur, I'm afraid I'm not going to do that. I mean, you kinda left me alone for god-knows-how-long, so I don't really see the point in doing so anymore."

"But for all that time, you have been in my house, using my land. So all that money you haven't been paying me? Yeah, I want it. Now."

"But why?!"

"Because I said so."

_However, Alfred wasn't a child anymore. "Because I said so" wasn't good enough anymore._

"But Arthur, why should I have to pay for your negligence?"

"I already told you - because I said so. Now, Alfred, kindly leave my office because this discussion is over."

"But-!"

"America," he warned, voice dangerously low, "this conversation is over. Leave."

Yes, Alfred would leave then, but there was something that most definitely would not leave him - this anger. This wrath and hatred that would grow and fester until it was released. The faster it was freed, the better it would've been for the both of them, but unfortunately, that was not what Alfred had in mind. He thought that if he just did what he said, that Arthur would finally lay off and leave him alone.

His hopes were dashed soon enough.

"Okay, I don't see why I have to pay for your stuff too. I don't even drink tea unless YOU make it for me!"

"Do we really have to go through this whole spiel again? I told you, you'll listen to me for as long as you live here, understand?"

"But what if I don't want to?"

"America, you will listen to me and only me, not these preposterous ideals you have been forming as of late. I don't care what you want because you don't know what you want. I'm the only one who cares about you, and if you leave, you'll never find anyone who cares like I do. If you decide to leave and finally figure that out, don't you dare come back."

Alfred was shocked silent at his words. Arthur didn't even have to tell him to leave, he just did, without another sound. It finally seemed that all traces of defiance had left him.

The word "seemed" was used there for a reason.

Multiple other acts of defiance were attempted, including once throwing all of Arthur's precious tea into the ocean. However, per usual, this did not sway him at all- on the contrary, it only made things exceptionally worse, for his leash was only tightened even more, to a point where he was almost suffocating under all of the new rules and regulations.

He knew that it hadn't worked in the past, but he just had to talk to Arthur one last time. Maybe, just maybe, it would work.

"Ah, Alfred," he said unenthusiastically upon hearing his office door opening, "have you come up with another argument to attempt to sway me?" He sounded calm, but there was a drop of something in his voice - either irritation or amusement.

"Yes, actually, I have, Arthur. Look, I know you're probably on some power trip right now since you don't even have the decency to look at me, but I just need you to listen to me-"

"Last I heard, subordinates do not tell those higher than them what to do."

If Alfred had any one ounce of respect left then, it left him instantly, with a sharp pang of betrayal.

"Th-that's all I am to you? A subordinate?"

"Well yes, I don't know what you expected. After all, you're just a colony, aren't you?"

"Just a colony? But… But I thought-"

"Well, you were wrong, Alfred. That's all you are, and it's all you ever will be."

"So that's why you're treating this like a game, isn't it?! Let's see how long Alfred holds out before he snaps! Let's just laugh at him while he continuously asks for one simple little concept-"

"Alfred, that is enough-"

"SHUT UP!"

Within milliseconds, a fist-sized hole was embedded within the off-white wall.

"Just shut the hell up, Arthur, and just listen to me, because this isn't funny anymore! I've tried so hard to get along with you, but you never want to listen to me! Ever since you left me, you've been acting so much different! All I wanted was for you to hear me out and treat me like I actually exist! I don't want to be some kind of stupid joke that you and the rest of the world can laugh at!"

"Do you think this is *fun* for me?!" Arthur asked after he whirled around, his voice shrill. "Do you think that I *wanted* this to happen?! This isn't what I asked for, Alfred!" His words came out thickly, as if he were about to cry. "I just wanted it to be the same as before! I… I just wanted… I just wanted *you* back."

The two allowed the words to soak in for a second, taking in the tense atmosphere. Was that really what he wanted? Well, maybe he could… No, no, Alfred had made up his mind already, there was no turning back now.

"I'm sorry, Arthur. But I'm not a little kid anymore."

Arthur stared at him for a second, something like longing present on his features for a moment, but he then turned around sat back down at his desk, refusing to face Alfred again.

"Are you sure that you won't change your mind, Arthur?"

"Yes." Came the simple answer.

"Heh. That's what I thought, Arth- …England."

This was his third, and final, mistake.

・・・

Thirteen full years of humiliation and torment swirled inside of him, devouring his very being. All that time he wished to be free, and now he was finally proving himself, but this… this reaction….

It was utterly unacceptable.

"You think this is a *joke,* England?!" He said, running up to him and knocking the musket out of his hands with his own. It was tossed into the air and landed with a thud on the rain-soaked ground

"After all I've done to get here… after thirteen years - thirteen god damn years, and you think this is still child's play?!"

The now unarmed Brit cowered in fear, tripping over his own feet and falling to the ground. Alfred pressed the tip of his musket to Arthur's neck, leaving the rest of the redcoats unsure of what to do. After all, they were given orders to shoot at anyone- anyone except for Alfred, that is.

"How blind can you possibly *be?* What's wrong with you? Can't you see what you've done?! I… I didn't even want to do this. I didn't want this to happen… But you-" Alfred's breath hitched in his throat, a weary smile settling on his features.

"You… you really haven't changed, have you?" He pulled his gun back and stared at him with that cold smile, something like wistfulness lingering on his expression for a bit, but then turned and walked away, motioning for his troops to follow behind.

"Alfred." Arthur said firmly, his eyes steely and cold.

Alfred said nothing, but paused in his steps to show that he was listening.

"If you leave now… please, *please,* don't you ever come back."

He let out a humorless laugh at the request, and continued his stride.

"I wasn't planning on it."

「ｗｈｅｎｈｅｌｏｖｅｄｍｅ」

Ahahahaha ow my heart

Before you blame me, here's the things I got this idea from: When She Loved Me - Sarah Mclachlan, Uprising - Muse, and Undertale (Scene where Frisk leaves Toriel ;-;) (I also take APUSH classes which means American history this whole year including the Revolution haha /cry)

Also I wasn't really sure who I wanted you to feel bad for so it's kinda whichever character you like the best? I dunno

I also had the headcanon that using human names or nation names determines hoclose you are. In this case, America's not his little brother anymore, then he said England instead of Arthur. You do the math. /hysterical sobbing


	11. MEMORY

**« Let's go in the garden, you'll find something waiting ... Right there where you left it, lying upside down~. »**

It wasn't very often that England ever thought about that boy.

It was even less often that he would ever get so torn up about it.

Yet still, here he was after the fact, lying beneath a tree staring up blankly into the sky, his mind seemingly gone off somewhere in the clouds.

It was calm - in fact, it was too calm for what had just happened mere hours before.

England had stumbled into his house after suddenly exploding and leaving at a Conference due to a heated argument with... Well, frankly, he didn't even want to think about his nane anymore after that.

Blinded by anger, sadness, or whatever his issue was, he soon went back to his old terrible habits. A single bottle of whiskey soon became some number that he was too intoxicated to count up to.

He was still in such a haze that he couldn't entirely remember what had happened after that, he simply recalled going somewhere and nowhere until he passed out.

As he lay here, though, he could still remember a child from centuries ago. A small one, though to be of no more worth than any other, but one with a big heart and a bright smile that more than made up for the fact that he wasn't so bright himself.

The boy, he was still a child, yes, but... it was different now. In fact, it had been different since more than two hundred years ago, but of course, England was too in denial to notice.

Tears unconsciously made their way from glazed over eyes as he remembered those words the child cried.

"All I wanted," he had said, "was for you to hear me out and treat me like I actually exist!" Today, England noticed how the kid's arguments seemed to mirror the same ones England had heard so long ago.

"I don't want to be some kind of stupid joke that you and the rest of the world can laugh at!"

Actually, they were exactly the same as before.

"Remember those eighteen years? Honestly, how blind could you possibly be? Why can't you see what you've done?!"

Maybe things weren't so different after all.

"You really haven't changed, have you?"

Ah, that only made it worse.

 **« When you finally find it, you'll see how it's faded ... The underside is lighter, when you turn it around. »**

America could not believe he'd just said that.

Well, actually, he could, but he really, really didn't want to.

And frankly, it wasn't like he didn't mean what he said. He still didn't want to, though. It just felt nice to say what he really thought, apparently so much that he just couldn't stop saying it.

Somewhere inside of him, he could even say he actually liked seeing the man flinch at his words like he'd actually been hurt. Now, however, that he'd actually had time to process what had happened, it just brought back unpleasant memories.

Soldiers standing on a field in front of him, the angry storm that threatened to batter them all into dust, the cowering Brit on the ground in front of him... no, he couldn't think about this now. After all, it was supposed to be a good day today, wasn't it?

Well, seeing how it started with being berated by one of the people he truly thought didn't legitimately hate him anymore, maybe it wasn't.

"It's not like I wanted this to happen to you," he said, "Whatever made you such an annoying, aggravating, and otherwise frustrating person to be around is your own damn fault!"

Heh, he always knew how to hit those certain nerves, didn't he?

"Did you think that was fun for me? You never even spared a single thought about what I really wanted for you, did you? You're a child, just like before. That's all you are, and it's all you ever will be."

America could practically hear the poison dripping from those words.

"But hey, no one really cares about what you want in this world, do they?" His laugh was empty, and somewhat unsettling. "I can't believe I spent all that time trying to raise such an ungrateful little child." He laughed even more as he wiped the tears forming in his eyes. "Remember how I said you'd never find anyone who cared about you again?" He sighed. "Well, I was wrong, because all you care about is yourself."

And then, he just… left.

Damn, that man was fast for his age.

 **« Everything stays, right where you left it ... Everything stays, but it still changes. »**

"Amerique, please don't do something you might regret. With people like him, well… you really need time to think about what you're doing."

America had already thought long and hard about that, the determined stride he set off with proved that.

"You need to figure this out first. Are you doing this for somebody else, or just so you'll feel better?"

Suddenly, he paused in his steps, allowing those last few words to sink in.

Was he doing this for himself? He'd felt absolutely awful for saying all those things, and he couldn't just leave it like that. England would probably never speak to him again if he did.

Maybe this really wasn't for England after all.

America sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He looked out to the horizon, the sky appearing as if it were about to rain. He mused that maybe he should just give up. It was over, there was no hope of fixing this.

However, looking over into the distance, he spotted a certain someone.

Now sprinting, all he thought was that at this point, he couldn't care less about who this apology was truly for, he couldn't possibly just leave it like this!

"England!" He practically shouted once he was there. "England, I'm so glad you're here! You have no idea-" He stopped himself once he realised that he was getting nowhere with this. Any sort of feeling that England had before disappeared with a wave of indifference as he rolled over so as not to face the American.

"England, are you…?" That was a stupid question. Of course he wasn't. "England, please… I need you to talk to me. Anything is fine, I just need something!"

No response.

"Even if you just said 'I hate you,' it's fine, I just need something to work with, I need you to help me… I just… I need you."

Nothing.

America huffed and sat down in the grass next to him.

"England, seriously, this is important to me. Say something."

Ugh, those words, "me," and "I"… this really was for him, wasn't it?

"Arthur, please…." It'd been so long since he'd used that name, the word felt foreign and strange on his tongue.

A sharp intake of breath at that told America that he was at least still listening.

"Why did you come here anyways? Seems like an odd choice of venue to be pissed at."

"…I once found something wonderful here." He… He actually replied?!

"Don't you remember this place?" England asked quietly, "Do you still have any of these memories? Any of them besides…." His near-whisper simply trailed off into nothingness.

America kept quiet in silent contemplation. This place did seem familiar, but he really had no idea why.

"I don't expect you to after what I've done." England admitted in that same barely audible voice. "You probably won't recall them even after this."

"It… it wasn't what I asked for, you know. None of this was." His words came out thickly, as if he were about to cry. "I… Somehow, I just expected everything to go back to how it was before. I just wanted… I just wanted you back, Alfred."

America still remained silent. England had never once in his life spoken to him like this before, and he'd never seen him so… tired. So oddly submissive, like he'd just given up. Homestly, it was scary.

"I still care about you, you know. I didn't really mean any of what I said, to be honest with you. I understand if you don't want to talk to me anymore, you probably just felt like you had to. You don't, really. You don't need this, and you don't need me. I'm not the most pleasant person to be around. Sometimes, I wonder what you probably think of me now." He was cut off by a sudden awkwardly-angled hug from America.

"Well, I think you're pretty great."

 **« Ever so slightly, daily and nightly ... »**

"I'm - I'm sorry, Arthur. I'm not a little kid anymore, but you... You do know that I still, like... l-love you and stuff, right?"

"Yes, Alfred."

"And?"

"And what?"

"What do you mean 'and what?!'"

"Calm down, I'm just kidding. I… I love you too."

And at last, the heavens cried too and it began to rain.

 **« In little ways, when everything stays. »**

 **「ｍｅｍｏｒｙ」**

* * *

song - "everything stays" by rebecca sugar

(the "i love you" is intended to be platonic but if you ship usuk thats ok too)

oh my gOODNESS author-chan wrote a fanfic with a GOOD ENDING somebody call the presses

x


	12. UNDER TWO MOONS

**≪ Is it just you and me in the wreckage of the world? … That must be so confusing for a little girl. ≫**

Within the bamboo forests of China. something was rustling.

Something was rustling, and China had absolutely no idea what it was.

"Hello, aru?" He called, regretting it as soon as he'd heard his own voice. Of course the thing wouldn't understand him, would it?

He peered around silently, careful not to alarm the thing that was here.

Unfortunately, he didn't notice the quiet footsteps of the thing coming right behind him.

"Kon'nichiwa?"

"Ah!" China shouted as he jumped back and turned around, only to see a child staring up at him with unnaturally cold eyes.

"Aiyaa, no wonder there's not many people living here… this kid probably scared them all away, aru." He mused aloud to himself.

"I'm sorry?" The child asked, his head tilted in confusion.

"Nothing, aru!" China claimed before coming to a certain realisation. "Say… you must be a new nation, aren't you?"

The child merely nodded.

"Well, my name is Zhōngguó, aru! If there's any questions, then as your new honorary big brother, you could always ask me anything! Now, do you mind telling me your name, aru?"

"Hajimemashite, nation where the sun sets. I am Nihon, from where the sun rises."

"He doesn't seem to be the nicest kid either, aru…."

"What?"

"Nevermind!" He exclaimed, although the child looked a bit more suspicious this time.

"Just… comer with me alright?"

Extending his hand to him, the child hesitantly took hold of it, sending out ecstatic waves of pride throughout China's very being.

This was a mistake in itself, but of course, there would've been no way of knowing.

However, despite the child's constant refusal of being labeled as China's "little brother," everything actually went quite smoothly for the longest time. Though, there was a bit of a bump in the road.

"Why does he only create pictures, aru?" China asked himself one day whilst watching the other draw from afar. (He had a bad habit of hovering now.)

"Doesn't he know how to…?" His already quiet voice trailed off once he'd realised that the child had probably never once in his life written anything.

"Nihon?" He called, catching the child's attention. "Come here, I'd like to show you something, aru."

Placing a piece of paper on the table, he took out a pen and a small bottle of ink. Guiding the child's hand, he created two symbols on the paper.

日本

"This is your name, aru."

The child had swiftly learned many things after that.

...But first, he taught himself how to create his own letters. (Much to China's dismay.)

 **≪ And I know you're going to need me here with you … But I'm losing myself, and I'm afraid you're gonna lose me too. ≫**

Today, China was going to teach something a bit different.

"Nihon," he began, brandishing a sword, "this here is a dadao, quite similar to what you'd call a katana. It is an extremely dangerous thing, and never should be placed within untrained hands. It can cut through clothes and deep into flesh. However, should you ever have to use any sort of weapon such as this, I want you to be able to do so properly. Now, take out your sword."

"Why would I need to do that?" Japan asked, unsheathing his katana.

"Because… well… Because, Nihon, you will need to protect yourself without me someday. A nation's existence isn't always a when, sometimes it's an if. Eventually, I won't be here. Understand, aru?"

"I… I guess so."

"Good. You must also never use this against anyone who does not mean harm. It is for self defense only, aru. Unless you want to be come some sort of tyrant, of course…"

"No, no, I won't! I understand!"

"Excellent. Now, let us start with your stance, aru…"

This new training went extremely well, despite only having done it for a few hours. Japan being such a fast learner had made it all the more easier. So much easier, in fact, that China had come up with an idea, one that Japan actually really didn't want to do.

"If you want to become better, then fight me, aru!"

"But I… I don't want to-"

"Don't worry, aru!" China reassured. "I'll be fine, promise."

China smiled as he spoke, but Japan couldn't seem to bring himself to smile back genuinely and only continued to stare down at the ground quietly. For some reason, he simply couldn't trust those words.

Fortunately, China didn't really seem to notice.

"Now, assume your stance!"

Almost as if someone else were forcing him to do this, Japan complied.

"Begin!"

For the first few minutes or so, the match seemed like it was already a stalemate, both nations going at it with the grace of practiced fighters. With China's millennia of knowledge and Japan simply being a swift learner, it almost appeared as if it was completely pointless.

Until China started winning and Japan started losing.

As if it were some sort of primal instinct that kicked in, Japan's skill suddenly increased tenfold. His normally cold eyes now held a spark of - what was that? Determination? Rage, even? Whatever it was, this emotion seemed like it wanted to kill. Taking advantage of China's stunned state, he came in close and with one sweep of the leg, had him on the ground, looking directly down the blade of his katana.

Both of them breathing heavily, they stayed like that for a few minutes, until China suddenly started staring at the other with a weird expression. It looked as if he were in awe. But that couldn't be possible, he should be angry! That wasn't supposed to happen, was it? Japan slowly lowered the weapon, becoming increasingly perplexed.

However, instead of a scowl, his brother's face broke in to a wide grin and he began to laugh.

"Huh?" Japan asked, growing more and more confused by the second. "Why are you-"

"I'm so proud of you!" China cried, pulling his little brother into a tight hug.

"Wh- Chuugoku! What are you doing?"

Ignoring Japan's words, he only squeezed him tighter.

"I knew you could do it."

Japan was about to protest again, but noticing the tears in the other man's eyes, he refrained from doing so, and simply let his body go lax.

For some reason, though, what he had done had actually felt… good.

The hug? Not so much.

 **≪ This magic keeps me alive, but it's making me crazy … And I need to save you, but who's going to save me? ≫**

On one clear night, the two sat outside together, gazing up contentedly at the star-filled sky.

They sat in a comfortable quietness, nothing except for the soft chirping of crickets around them.

"So, Nihon," China said, breaking the silence between them, "do you ever wonder what you are going to do in the future, aru?"

Japan stayed silent for a moment, in quiet contemplation.

"In the future… I plan to become stronger. In time, the western powers, they are most likely going to invade this place eventually. I need to fight at any cost, if ever and whenever that time comes."

"Aiyaa, that's so complicated, aru… I honestly don't understand. Why don't you do something simpler, aru?"

Japan seemed troubled for a moment, a flicker of irritation showing quickly on his face, but his expression eventually softened. Although, he still didn't answer, leaving them both in a relatively comfortable silence as they returned to stargazing once again.

After a while, China pointed at the moon shining clearly in the sky.

"Look, Nihon!" He said, grinning brightly. "The rabbit on the moon is mixing medical herbs, aru."

Japan smiled too. "It's pounding rice cakes, isn't it?"

Japan wasn't heard from for a while after that.

 **≪ Please forgive me for whatever I do … ≫**

"Chuugoku. What are you doing here?"

"I was worried about you, Nihon. I was wondering where you've been! Why haven't you-"

"That is not any of your business."

"Oh, I'm sorry, aru…."

"That is alright, I guess. However, since you have come all this way… I would assume that you would like to come in, yes? Wait here for a moment, please."

Then, Japan went inside for a while. So long, in fact, that China had begun to walk around aimlessly, finally getting bored and deciding to sit at the end of the stone path.

Careful footsteps lightly tapped on the ground, audible only if you were paying close attention.

However, China only sighed, bending over and drawing patterns in the ground with his finger, whilst… what was he doing, talking to himself?

Japan was a bit confused at first, as he almost always was, but he said nothing, only unsheathed his weapon.

China's neck was exposed, Japan's goal was clear, it was already over.

Automatically, he raised his katana.

"I just… really love that child, aru."

With an unconscious decision, he aimed lower.

Then, he took a step ahead and swung.

China gasped and fell over from the sudden pain shooting throughout his spine, rolling over only to see Japan staring down at him, his blade glistening in the moonlight as the end of it was positioned, ready to slice into his chest at any moment.

"N-Nihon, what are you-"

He cut himself off as he took notice of those same cold, dead eyes.

"Honto ni gomen ne."

What happened next wouldn't kill him, but the scars of broken promises would remain forever.

 **≪ When I don't remember you. ≫**

 **「ｕｎｄｅｒｔｗｏｍｏｏｎｓ」**

* * *

 _song - "remember you" by rebecca sugar_

 _(ppl rlly need to stop claiming nations as their little brothers if they're not related it_ _ends well)_

 _basically China was like "ok Japan I'm gonna teach you how to do a thing but you can't use it against me aru" but then Japan said " how bout I do anyway? "_  
 _and you know how China has that scar on his back? well nOW YOU DO_

 _and I just noticed how I keep changing a bunch of stuff that's already canon haha_

 _x_


	13. 1986

**[ XX XXX, 201X ]**

Once again, Ukraine was crying, and once again, it was Belarus who had to comfort her.

Even with all the times she'd done this, it was still a complete and utter disaster. She was never any good with sad people, much less people in general. Belarus, she was always… different.

"Come on, Katyusha," she said, trying to move her hair to the side to look her in the eyes. "There is no need for crying, everything is fine!"

"No, no, no…" Ukraine muttered, shaking her head and crying even harder, "no, no it's not! It's not!"

"Please stop… you will at least tell me what's wrong, won't you?"

"I can't, I can't tell you! He won't allow me to!"

Okay, now it was officially concerning. What was stopping her from speaking? And who was "he?" Whoever did this to her better run now and don't stop running or else they'll be running from Belarus in hell!

"Whoever it is, I can help you, you know. I will always protect you, sister."

"No, not this time, you won't, I know you won't, not even if I told you. And… and it was my fault, anyway. Not his."

This was so strange. One moment, she was perfectly fine, and the next, she saw… something. Something that made her a sobbing mess, carrying on about some guy who apparently did something terrible enough to make this happen.

Unfortunately, there was absolutely nothing that Belarus could do about it.

"Oh, Katya…." She sighed, reaching out to pull her closer.

"No!" Ukraine shouted, swatting her hand away, starting to cry once again. She buried her face into her knees, curling up so as to appear smaller. "Don't touch me! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I won't say anything…."

For both sisters, it was completely and utterly terrifying.

 **[26 April, 1986]**

Something was wrong, terribly wrong.

Ukraine didn't know what it was, but it was most definitely wrong.

It was a feeling of absolute dread in the pit of her stomach that had her waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. She saw the time - 1:23 a.m., but she had no intentions of sleep when something so horrible was happening… whatever it was.

She practically leaped out of bed, not even knowing what she was going to do, just that she had to do something.

After she nearly tripped and fell down an entire flight of stairs in her rushing, she was just about to put on her coat when she felt a sudden pain within her head. It obviously wasn't normal as the sheer intensity of it made her dizzy, to the point where she had to kneel on the floor for a moment to regain her surroundings.

Unfortunately, it didn't really help much, for as soon as she stood up, she even began to feel nauseous.

Ukraine was obviously not in any shape to be doing anything whatsoever, but if she didn't, who else was going to? And even if someone did, it would have been far too late by then, wouldn't it?

She decided to tough through it, and using the wall for balance, she grabbed her coat and put it around herself. And just when she thought that she was feeling a little bit better, she realised that it was already too late.

Sudden images of a catastrophic explosion played through her mind, which, oddly enough, calmed her in some way.

She at least knew what was going on now, and she knew who could help her with it.

That is, of course, if he was willing to do so.

Yet still, despite the pain and the sudden illness, she managed to arrive before sunrise, and, to her dismay, before anyone had woken up.

She pounded on the grand wooden door, the rising tsunami of adrenaline pumping throughout her veins only making each knock that much louder.

"Vanya!" She shouted, the lack of response amplifying her panic tenfold.

"Brother! Somebody, help me! Please!"

"Someone!" Nothing.

"Please…." Her voice trailed of, her knocking slowly growing quieter.

There were at least five people in this mansion, surely one of them would have answered by now.

She sighed in defeat and sat down against the door, burying her head in her hands. It was hopeless, and now, she just felt even more ill than before.

She almost didn't notice the door swinging open behind her.

"Miss Ukraine?" A surprised yet slightly tired voice spoke.

She stood up to find herself being stared at by familiar friendly eyes framed by long brown hair , their lips turned into a frown of concern.

"Oh, Lithuania!" She cried, instantly surrounding him with a nearly bone-crushing hug.

"Am I ever glad to see you! Please, where is Vanya, and is he awake? I need to see him now!"

"Y-yes, ma'am! Mr. Russia's in his study, but why are you-"

"There's no time for that. Thank you so much, Toris!" She raced through the house and up the stairs far too quickly to hear his reply.

Thankfully, this door was not locked.

"Vanya, I need to talk to you, now."

"Hmm?" The large man replied, looking up from his work. "Sestra? Why are you here?"

"Something has happened, and I'm afraid I don't know what to do. It may just be me panicking but… but I'm out of options! Please, you have to help me!"

"Calm down, Katya, just tell me what is wrong."

"I… I really don't know for sure, but I promise you, I saw it! I-it was a vision! A dream, something! I saw an explosion, and I felt it! I don't know what I'm supposed to do, I just… I-" Once again, she was beginning to cry.

"So, it was not real? You were merely dreaming?"

"…What?"

"You said it yourself." His words sounded calm, too calm.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean… Wait, you don't get those too?"

"Get what?"

"These… These visions! The feelings that come with them, the pain, the sickness… you do not have them?"

"Oh, yes, I do. Certainly. They are numerous, constant, and plenty agonizing. Sometimes I can even hear things… which is exactly why yours didn't happen." The way he talked about such a thing was far too casual to be normal. And what was he getting at…?

"What are you talking about? You say you know about this too, why do you not believe me?"

"Oh, no, I do! I do believe you. It's just that no one else can, you see."

"What?"

"I have my own issues to deal with. The government is slipping, atrocities are happening around every corner, we have little money to be throwing away, et cetera et cetera. I could go on, but we would be here for millennia at this rate. However, that is beside the point. The point is, I can not deal with your issues. I do not have the time, nor the money or patience or anything to help you. So, you are on your own."

"Well, then I'll just ask-"

"No, you will not." He stated firmly, standing up from his chair. "See, if I can not deal with your issues, then no one else can either. You will not be starting even more unrest within my states, do you understand, Katyusha?"

"No, I do not!" She turned on her heel and began to leave. "And frankly, I think-"

Russia crossed the room in only a few quick strides, closing the door behind him and locking it.

"I still do not think we are communicating properly." He said as he smiled and produced a faucet pipe from his coat. "I do not care about what you think. In this society, though you may think so, you are not equal to me. Everyone else, sure, but never me. Do not talk to me as if you are so sure of yourself, dear Katya."

Despite Ukraine's overwhelming fear, she still had the nerve to speak somehow. "I am still your sister! I h-have a right to-"

"Ah, you are stuttering." He chuckled darkly. "Just like them, I see. Face it, you know that I am right, just accept it and nothing bad will happen to you. Are you afraid of me? Intimidated? Like the others? Because, well, let me tell you, little girl..." He leaned in close and whispered sinisterly, "you certainly should be."

If there was any blood in her face at that one moment, it disappeared without a single trace.. In fact, she felt immensely afraid of her little brother right now. She never had any idea why people were always so wary around him, but now, she realised exactly why.

Say one wrong thing, and you might as well start writing your own will.

"Oh, suddenly so quiet, are you?" Russia mused as he looked her up and down, pacing in slow circles around her. "Something tells me that once you leave this place, you will not keep this silence."

"N-no, I will! I swear, I will!"

"I am deeply sorry, Katya, but I simply cannot believe you. You are just like that Estonia, you have become far too... independent for my liking. But do not worry, we will fix that right now, won't we?"

"No... no, no, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Vanya, please don't-"

She was cut off by something hard and metal hitting her in the face.

"Wh- what are you..."

"You will no longer tell me what to do, sestra." He said, the smile gone from his expression entirely. "You will only listen, you will not speak to me unless I have told you to. You will not ask questions, you will merely answer them. Is that clear?"

"Y-yes, Vanya..."

"Now, please, dear, would you mind telling me why this supposed catastrophe happened?"

"I-it was an accident! I don't-" She was hit once again.

"There will also be no lying. You do know. It was because your people were careless. It was because they do not pay attention, they are not observant. Now, answer me this - why is it that none of this actually happened?"

"It was because…." she thought about it for a moment, careful not to anger him further, "…because it does not matter. Wasting time on every little would not be productive." She ignored the splitting headache and the growing feeling of nausea.

"Good girl! You are learning faster than expected!" He praised, the childish grin quickly returning to his face. However, he then pushed her to the ground, keeping her down by firmly pressing his boot into her spine.

"Since you are such a clever little girl, you should know, then, that I am only doing this because I love you. You would not survive out there without me, and I am only trying to protect you, Katyusha. There is no one out there who cares about you more than I do. You understand, do you not?"

'Yes, Vanya."

"And because I love you, I will have to teach you this lesson. After all, we do not need those children who cannot play nicely, da?"

 ** _・・・_**

She woke up to the sound of a soft voice and a pleasantly warm feeling on her head.

"Oh, Miss Ukraine, you're awake!" The voice said. It sounded pleased with her. Did she say something good? She couldn't remember.

The owner of said voice leaned over her with a kind smile, nothing like the one she saw… yesterday? What day was it? Where was she? This wasn't the floor, it felt softer. All she could recognize was this face….

"Toris? What are you doing?"

"Just... cleaning you up. I… I presume you do not remember any of what happened before now?"

"No, I don't… I'm sorry."

"That's quite alright, miss." He said as he wrapped a final bandage around the wound on her head. She couldn't fully remember this person yet, but still, she already enjoyed their company greatly.

"Please, call me Katyusha. And… Toris, could you please tell me what happened before this?"

"I apologise, Katyusha, but I'm afraid that I can't do that. You are already unwell, this would only make it worse. You understand, don't you?"

For some reason, those last few words drove her to tears.

Then, as Lithuania hugged her and whispered soothing words of comfort to her, eventually, she cried herself to sleep in his arms. He didn't move, though, for fear of waking her up again.

Unconsciously, she wrapped her arms around the former even tighter.

"I wonder what such a kind-hearted person like you did to deserve something like this…." He mused aloud, running gentle fingers through her hair.

He did find out eventually, but he never truly understood.

But honestly, who could blame him?

 **[ XX XXX, 201X ]**

Eventually, with enough coaxing, her crying died down to quiet little sniffles here and there.

"You… you are okay, now?"

Slowly, she nodded, still keeping her head down.

"You are sure?" Belarus asked sternly, forcing the other woman to look at her.

"Yes, I am fine."

Belarus could only sigh as she wiped the tears away from her sister's face. Then, she gave Ukraine a tight hug, much to her surprise.

"Oh, there is no need for that!" She claimed with a somewhat shaky laugh as she pushed her away.

"But Katyusha-"

"I promise you, I am okay."

Belarus merely crossed her arms, looking up at her sister with a deeply skeptical glare.

She only laughed again in response. "Seriously, I mean it, it's fine. Now, I am going to be making pastila. You are welcome to come inside to help if you would like, or you could just come in whenever it's ready. Either way, I don't mind."

"Katyusha, you can't just-"

"Come on, Bela, I know they're your favorite~."

"Do not test my intelligence. I'm not five years old, I'm not just gonna-"

"Please? For me?"

She huffed in defeat, allowing her hands to drop to her sides. At least, whoever this "he" person is, he can't hurt her anymore, can he?

No, he couldn't. He wouldn't dare! If he does, he should hope he lives near a hospital.

"Thank you very much, my dear Natalya." Ukraine said, smiling genuinely. "I really appreciate it."

"Yeah, sure, whatever."

 **「１９８６」**

* * *

 _(pastila is some kinda Russian dessert that's coloured pastel or smth. idk but it looks good)_

 _I don't know if this is historically accurate bc this was requested by Forever Prosperous and per usual I just skimmed over Wikipedia articles but uh I hope you like it and I hope I did your idea justice!_

 _and yay for happy endings caused by blatant denial of the issue!_

 _also Russia is hECKING SCARY! like dang Ivan back at it again w/ the emotional manipulation..._

 _(also heyyy I got over 2,500 words it's a new record!)_

 _x_


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